The Spanish Lady (A Three Musketeers Fanfiction)

Accusations

That, however, was easier said than done. Porthos and Aramis each tried to get into the palace to see the woman, but were turned away. Aramis had then penned a short letter, only to have it returned still sealed a few hours later. The next day, Athos received a message from M. de Treville.

“Giles returned yesterday,” Athos said to his friends as they approached the Musketeers’ Headquarters. The sky was dark and overcast, threatening foul weather before the day ended. “I’m assuming I am being summoned to learn what he has to report.”

“Ten sous says the Comte de Carti will be dead within a week,” Porthos offered.

Walking in front of the big man, Aramis shook his head. D’Artagnan had guard duty that day, and had been unable to join them. “The Comte will have provided some person to take the fall for it,” the former priest answered. He stopped abruptly. “Not again!”

“You don’t care to put your money on that?” Porthos asked, stepping around him. “What’s wrong now?”

On his other side, Athos groaned. “Look over there.”

A royal carriage was sitting on front of the Musketeers headquarters. Senor Marquez was standing by it, eyeing the musketeers practicing nearby. “Senor!” Porthos called out. The Spaniard spun around. “What brings you to our part of Paris? Looking to join the king’s musketeers?”

“Señors,” Marquez greeted, nodding stiffly. “My daughter and Señora Molin were summoned by your Señor de Treville. I was told to return at this time for them. Señor de Treville would not allow me to remain with my daughter!”

There was no mistaking the outrage in the man’s voice. “Well, that can’t be good,” Aramis said, glancing at his companions. “What would Treville want with Maria and Señorita Marquez.”

Athos shook his head. “Let’s find out.”

With Señor Marquez behind them, the musketeers walked through the front gate and up to the doors. Inside, the usual noise of the headquarters was subdued, much as it had been when Maria had first stepped foot through the doorway. This time, everyone was glancing up towards the sound of muffled shouting.

“All right, which one of us gets to rescue Monsieur de Treville from Maria?” Aramis asked in resignation.

“You,” Porthos and Athos said in unison.

Startled, Aramis turned towards them. “Why does it have to be me?” he demanded. “Athos, you’re supposed to be here. You go.”

“I’m sure if I did, Señora Molin would only find some reason to be mad at me, and I would have to face the queen’s censure again,” Athos answered. “Therefore, the answer is no.”

Before the discussion could go any further, the door to Treville’s office slammed open. “Esta es la cosa más ridícula que he oído nunca! Yo no tengo que aguantar esto!” Señorita Marquez snapped, stomping out. Her voice echoed in the suddenly silent hall.

“Margarita!” Señor Marquez exclaimed, brushing past the musketeers. “Margarita?¿Qué ha pasado?”

“Señorita, please, if you let me explain,” M. de Treville said, hurrying from his office. Maria was behind him, walking very slowly. “Señorita!”

The young Spanish lady stormed down the steps. “Yo lo hetenido conustedes,mosqueteros!” she raged. All the musketeers watched her cautiously, waiting to see what she would do. “No voy atolerar estopor más tiempo! Padre, me quiero ir! Ahora! ¿Me oyes? ”